Something Borrowed, Something Blue
by homeric
Summary: In which Carter finds a wedding dress, Reese destroys a tux and Fusco discovers his feminine side.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

**A/N This story is unrelated to anything else I've written – just a bit of silly fun (maybe three chapters). Slightly AU in that Fusco and Carter know they are both working for Reese and Finch but Harold was never abducted.**

She had said no. Joss is absolutely sure of the fact. She had put her big girl panties on, turned down John of the husky voice, magnetic eyes and slappable smirk and refused to be a tool for whatever plan he and glasses guy were currently cooking up. No more being out of the loop, no more filing false reports and side-stepping questions from everyone from the FBI to her own son. She had definitely refused to co-operate with such reckless vigilantism without a proper explanation.

Unfortunately since it was also a fact that since she was currently hoisting what seemed to be half an acre of fluffy white tulle up so that she could get to the gun that was tucked into the blue ribboned garter belt encircling her thigh she also apparently has no willpower when it came to Reese. Two slugs slam through the door of the changing room she had taken cover in and bury themselves in the wall slightly to the left of her head. Carter drops to the ground and ducks down, wiping the sprinkle of plaster dust from her face. The ridiculously huge wedding dress she's wearing has essentially trapped her in the tiny cubicle at the back of the boutique. It had taken two people ten minutes to lace her into the meringue like monstrosity and she'd need a god-damn machete to get out of it by herself. Wriggling awkwardly onto her side she finally manages to pull an armful of material out of the way and finally find her gun with her free hand. Checking her ammo she vows to keep one bullet back for John if they actually ended getting out of this alive.

* * *

**Two Days Earlier**

Harold Finch narrowed his eyes at the computer screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The last few days had been quiet with no new numbers coming up, but he did after all have almost forty businesses under various aliases to take care of as well as checking and managing his shares, stocks and bonds. It's not difficult work, at least not for someone of his intelligence – he rather enjoys the dance within the stock markets, the patterns of trade and complexities of consumer logic. He's got too much money to ever really be at risk, but it's a lot more fun than Sudoku and the many charitable organisations in every name but his own invariably benefit from what he would call his "dabblings". For once though he's not alone on one of those rare periods where he doesn't have to track a number.

"Mr Reese." Harold can see the tall man sprawled in the half-stuffed chair in his office reflected in his computer screen. "I do hope that you are educating yourself with the fascinating history of the Tupi-Guarani tribe and not merely looking at the pictures." Turning awkwardly, he watches as John puts the ancient copy of a National Geographic Magazine back down onto the pile he had taken it from.

The younger man smiles with what Finch supposes is an attempt at innocence that would probably entice most women and terrify most men.

"There's nothing wrong with appreciating the female physique in all its different forms, Harold," John says, stretching lazily. "Remarkable people. Perhaps you could buy them a rainforest."

"Hmm." Harold gives him a sceptical look. "Much as I admire your concern for the indigenous people of the Amazon the socio and political factors would be somewhat insurmountable. If you are so bored that you are reduced to leering at women's anatomy from what is supposed to be educational literature I suggest you go home, or at least purchase a copy of Playboy magazine and pretend to buy it for the articles."

"I thought that I was keeping you company, and for the record I buy Playboy for the pictures of naked women."

Finch rolls his eyes. "If I wanted company then I would buy a dog. Go and see one of those terrible science fiction movies that you like; I'm sure that dragons and aliens are much more fun than watching me conduct my affairs. I'll let you know if another number comes up."

John yawns and lets his head rest against the back of the armchair. "I see you more as a cat person."

"And I would prefer not to see you at all when it is essentially your day off." The beep of his computer has Harold spinning back in his chair so quickly that he winces. Rubbing his stiff neck, he flexes his shoulders and enters the number that has popped up onto the screen into his many search engines.

"Got anything?" John pads over to him, resting a hand onto the desk and watching as the computer brings up an image of an attractive but not remarkable blonde woman.

"Janet Kline." Finch narrows his eyes and taps a couple of keys bringing up her driver's license. "Fourty three, lives in Queens." He clicks to an open window and then another faster than Reese can can follow. "No criminal record, owns a business by the name of "Orchidia" credit history for both the business and her private accounts are in the black but not overly so, nothing looks suspicious."

"Husband or boyfriend?" It's a perfectly sensible question, but Harold can't help but wince at how quickly John jumps to that conclusion. His partner is hard enough to control at the best of times (perhaps control is overly ambitious when it comes to describing their relationship, but at least Finch fancies that he nudges Reese towards "less is more" most of the time when it comes to violence). If Ms Kline is the victim of domestic violence then the clean up is going to be a complicated process if he lets John loose.

"One ex husband of eight years now living in Idaho, remarried with a two year old son and managing a small graphic design company. I don't see him as a threat. No other names registered as her significant others either medically or legally. She's got no links to anyone suspicious that I can see and no family aside from a grandmother living in Florida."

"So essentially we've got nothing." John frowns at the picture on the computer screen.

"We're going to have to get close. If she's the target or the perpetrator then we need more information." Finch gives his partner an appraising look. "You need to get into the Bridal shop, clone her phone and keep tabs on Ms Kline. From the website it seems "Orchidia" specialises in the ultimate wedding experience for both the bride and groom. From choosing the venue of the nuptuals to advising the bride regarding the wedding dress and organising the stag party."

John's grey eyes narrow and Harold watches him reach for his phone. It doesn't take long for the person at the other end of the line to answer, but he imagines it's as much of a shock to the woman as it is to him when Reese speaks with casual nonchalance.

"Carter will you marry me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Carter is rather pleased with herself. For the first time in, well, come to think of it she can't actually remember, with regards to her job she is free and clear for the weekend. The gang of bank robbers she and Fusco had been investigating had essentially done their jobs for them by shooting each other when a security guard drew his weapon, and for once the eye-witnesses had been co-operative, even eager to dot the "I"'s and cross the "T"'s when it came to writing her report. All she needed was a pretty pink bow to put on top of the file and it would be wrapped up beautifully when it came to putting it onto her lieutenants desk. That left her with a blissful two days off – maybe she'd even let Taylor drag her to the new superhero movie that she dismisses as being silly and privately would rather like to see. Collecting the paperwork together and making sure that she hasn't missed anything, the buzz of her cell phone makes her jump a little. The number isn't recognised but it doesn't really need to be. _John._

"This had better be good," she grumbles into the receiver.

"Carter will you marry me?" Reese is straight and to the point, and for a long moment Joss has no idea how to process the question, instead looking at the phone in her hand as though it had transformed itself into an alien creature. Putting it back up to her ear she glances around. The precinct is quiet, no-one seems to be paying any attention to her, but since she'd gone from relaxed to utterly bewildered in the space of five seconds she didn't want to attract an audience.

"What the hell John? I'm not in the mood for games."

Reese sounds amused when he answers and Joss is fairly sure that if they were having the conversation face to face she might have slapped him. "Not quite the answer I had hoped for – would it help if I got down on one knee?"

"If you were down on one knee it would be because I'd shot you in the kneecap," Carter retorts. "Who's the job and why."

"Romance is dead." Reese's sigh is audible even over the crackly phone reception. "A woman who runs a wedding business is in danger. I need to get close to find out why and for that I need a beautiful , perceptive woman to pretend to be my future wife – or you to be more precise."

_Beautiful._ He'd called her beautiful. Joss takes two seconds to bask in the warmth of the compliment before mentally shaking herself. John used his effect on women with the same ruthless efficiency he used his guns, and she sure as hell wasn't going to be blindsided by charm. But if a woman truly was in danger... Wistfully she says goodbye to her quiet weekend.

"What's the story, when and where?"

* * *

"As Jossy was saying, we'd like the wedding elegant but intimate." Reese is gazing down on her with such a look of such over the top adoration that Joss has to curl her fingers into fists so as not to reach for the gun in her purse and redecorate the boutique with the contents of his skull. "We were thinking a white and gold theme, weren't we darling." His ridiculously gorgeous grey eyes are smiling down on her, and she manages to smile back, snuggling closer to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. Janet Kline had welcomed the two of them with a kindness that seemed genuine, and at the display of affection the blonde smiles as she shuffles through the brochures that she'd put on the table.

"You make a beautiful couple I must say." The woman's blue eyes are warm as she studies them. "Some pairings you just know are made to last."

"Coming from a professional that's praise indeed. I don't mean to be rude, but do you have a bathroom I might use?" John's voice is silky soft and Joss watches as the wedding planner's cheeks colour when he smiles at her_. Idiot, _she thinks. _He's playing you and you're falling for it. _Nonetheless she doesn't move away when Reese's hand brushes against her side.

Miss Kline smiles and nods towards the corridor behind the front desk. "By all means, it's down there on the left." As John gets up he gives Joss a peck on the cheek and she struggles between indignation, smiling and attempting to act like a happy wife-to-be as she watches him go.

"You're a lucky woman," Janet says when John is out of earshot. "Most men aren't that interested in planning weddings, especially those that choose the deluxe option."

"Yeah." Joss looks at the questionnaire she's been given. She's fairly sure that the last time she filled out anything so detailed she got either an apartment or a high school diploma out of it. "He's got an eye for detail that's for sure." Crossing her arms she looks around the small office. It's pretty, simply furnished with cream coloured walls and a plush brown carpet. A vase of yellow roses in a red vase add a splash of colour, but there is little in the room to give any indication of the personality of its owner. No neon signs flashing , not even a photograph on the wall that might hint at a lead as to why John had dragged her there. Since the man in question is probably doing God knows what in a likely illegal capacity, Joss turns her attention to the woman who is flicking through pictures of wedding cakes from a plastic folder.

_No wedding ring, but the enthusiasm for the job seemed genuine._ Carter is a bit at a loss as to why she's having to lie to the woman. Certainly she doesn't seem like a threat. "How did you get into the wedding business?" she says eventually.

Janet Kline laughs, looking behind her shoulder to check that Reese wasn't returning. "Between you and me I was a bit of a bridezilla when I got married. The husband didn't work out but the wedding was wonderful. After that I started organizing friends' weddings and it just snowballed. You only get one perfect day, unless you're Elizabeth Taylor bless her eternal soul." She reaches out and pats Joss's hand. "Brides have enough to think about without worrying about how many chairs they need at the reception afterwards, am I right?"

"You are." Joss smiles back weakly and listens as the older woman prattles on about different wedding cakes. When it comes to choosing the topper, she barely restrains herself from laughing when she pictures the tiny bride and groom holding little automatic weapons.

"Darling." Reese kisses her head when he returns _and oh you did not feel a shiver go down your spine girl,_ Carter tells herself fiercely. _That is a place that you definitely are not going to go_. "Have you ladies decided on anything yet?"

"These flowers and that cake." Joss jabs a finger at a picture of a cake that is so over the top that it probably needs planning permission before it can be constructed and a page of floral opulence that gives her hay-fever just looking at it. Both are hideously over the top but incredibly expensive. If John wants to use her as his decoy and ruin her weekend then at least his wallet should suffer.

"Are you sure you don't want something bigger?" John's voice is kind and solicitous. Seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes she has to resist the urge to laugh.

"No, those are the ones I want, sweetie." Batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly she kisses him briefly on the jaw and watches his eyes widen and his poise slip for the briefest of moments._ Ha! _She keeps her poker face and tries to look like a happy fiancée rather than a triumphant sparring partner.

"Whatever the lady wants." John says mildly.

Janet looks a little uncertain, but obviously unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth she takes down the order along with a lot of personal information that is stretching the truth on Joss's part and a flat out lie on John's. Carefully stapling a copy of the documents together and handing it to Reese, the wedding planner smiles at them both. "Now we need to find you a dress!" Her smile leaves no doubt in Joss's mind that this is the woman's favourite part of the wedding "experience". "Do you have a girlfriend that you'd like to help you choose? I have a beautiful selection of couture in the dressing room and I'm getting a delivery from Vera Wang coming in tomorrow; I'll give you first dibs."

"I..." This is moving a little too fast for Carter and she's not quite sure what to say_._

"That sounds wonderful." John smiles at Joss smoothly. "You can take Lionel – he'd love to give you advice." Ignoring Joss's horrified look, he gets up, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. "Lionel is a close friend of ours, and since he's gay I don't mind him watching my lady undress," he says to Janet with a wink. "He also knows a lot more about fashion than I do."

"Ah, I see." The blonde tucks the necessary paperwork into a folder and gives it to Joss. "Will ten o clock be alright or would you prefer to come in later?"

Scrambling to maintain her composure Carter manages a smile. "Ten tomorrow. I look forward to it."

"As do I dear." the woman waves them off happily and Joss manages not to shoot John in the parking lot although she really, really wants to.

* * *

It's cold, its a Saturday morning and Carter can think of at least several dozen things she'd rather be doing than keeping tabs on a wedding planner. Watching as her partner pulls into the parking lot she acknowledges that at least she isn't the only one suffering.

"Fusco.." Joss doesn't quite know how to process the the information her eyes are giving her when it comes to the man who gets out of the battered Toyota. The rather portly Detective has crammed himself into skinny jeans and wrapped a purple and pink scarf around his neck. "Did you trip and fall into a fourteen year old girl's wardrobe?"

"Shut up," he gives her a glare and Joss has to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing. "I'm supposed to be your gay girl, guy friend so here I am."

"Right." Carter looks at her phone on the off chance there has been an update on the situation. Alas nothing. Reaching out she tugs on the end of the scarf. "This really doesn't suit you."

Fusco bats her hands away and rearranges his neck-wear. "I've watched "Will And Grace" you know. I'm getting in character. Gay men wear scarves."

"Will And Grace? Seriously?" This time Joss doesn't try to hide her amusement. "You went on that Sensitivity in the Workplace course right? How many gay men do you know dress like this?"

Lionel re-arranges his scarf and glares at her. "I don't know any gay men. And if I did I wouldn't ask them for advice on what to wear."

Joss raises her eyebrows but falls into step alongside her partner when he stomps off towards "Orchidia"'s pretty white building. "You know that two of the people you work with are gay right?"

"Reese and the little glasses guy?"

Carter bursts out laughing. "For a detective you're pretty unobservant. Try a little closer to home." At Fusco's bewildered look she shakes her head. "Next time you get dragged into the lieutenant's office have a look at the photographs on his desk."

Lionel gives her the side-eye, but Joss ignores it. She's got a job to do and annoying as it is she'll do it well.

**A/N sorry for not replying to my much loved reviewers – I thought you might prefer a faster update instead. I think I lied when I said this would be three chapters long – it'll maybe end up being five with a smuttier epilogue on the other site ;) (Fusco and Carter's conversation wasn't meant as a slight towards John/Harold shippers, there are some brilliant slash writers out there).**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

"I have known you for some time, Mr Reese", Finch says disapprovingly, clicking to enlarge a video on his computer screen, "and studied you for longer. I had apparently misjudged your capacity for sadism however." Tapping a couple of keys brings up a picture from the parking lot in front of the building complex Orchadia is situated in. It takes a moment for the picture to clear, but when it does the figures of a grumpily amused looking Joss and a seemingly irritated Lionel appear walking away from the security camera that Harold had hacked towards the bridal boutique. "I imagine Detective Fusco had wished that you'd killed him at your first acquaintance and frankly I am at a loss as to why Detective Carter hasn't arrested you yet."

Leaning against the wall, watching his partner work, John shrugs. "Maybe she can think of better things to do with her handcuffs." When Finch not so subtly rolls his eyes, he has to bite back a smile. "Besides I think that Lionel is rather enjoying this little bit of role-play – he looks rather fetching."

"He looks like an unfortunate transsexual who woke up to find that his clothes had shrunk two sizes overnight," Harold snaps back. "Really, what on earth did you say to him?"

John picks a minuscule piece of lint off of his immaculately cut suit collar. "I merely told him that I needed him to pretend to be Joss's gay friend so that he could help her choose her a wedding dress while we learned a little more about our target." The older man gives him a look of deep mistrust that is not at all mollified by John's wide and obviously insincere smile before going back to the camera footage.

* * *

"What exactly did John say to you?" Carter's cheeks are hurting a little at the attempt not to burst out laughing every time she glances at her partner.

Fusco looks at her sideways and Joss suddenly pretends to find the trees to her left incredibly interesting. "He told me that something was going down at this wedding shop...thing, and that we were going undercover. You're the potential bride and I'm the gay best friend who likes musical theatre, Abba songs and might want to try on one of the dresses. He's already described me to the wedding planner so I've got to stay in character."

At that Carter does burst into laughter, so much so that she almost falls over a garbage can and into a hedge trying to make sure that her hysterics can't be seen if Janet Kline happens to look out of the window. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she looks at Lionel again and bites her lip to try and keep herself together. Fusco glares at her, hands on the bulges of his paunch that are spilling over the top of his indecently tight jeans. The image is so comical that inwardly Joss feels her naughty side emerging. _Fuck it,_ she tells herself._ Her weekend is already ruined and this could actually be fun._ Rearranging the strap of her bag over her shoulder she checks to see if her phone is still in there. A couple of snaps of Fusco in his present outfit or better still a wedding dress and the next time her partner tries to duck out of his share of paperwork she can threaten to put them up on the precinct's notice board.

"Sorry, not used to these heels and I can't imagine you listening to Abba." It's not a total lie; on the rare occasions that she wears the fairly low but sexy heels Joss can't help but put a little sway to her step, and when she had looked through her wardrobe that morning she'd thought _well why not?_ Blushing brides-to-be didn't turn up to wedding dress fittings in sneakers. For a moment she thinks of her husband, the second hand dress that she had worn to their wedding and the way that he had looked at her as though she had been wearing couture. _But that was real and this is fake, _she tells herself. It didn't matter that she and Reese struck sparks off each other like steel on flint when they got close enough to touch. There was a job to be done.

Janet Kline looks up from her paperwork and smiles from behind her desk when Joss opens the door and enters the office.

"Miss Cartwright!" The blonde practically beams at her, and for a moment Carter feels a twinge of regret at fooling the seemingly warm hearted woman. Instead she smiles, says "Hi" and indicates the man next to her. "This is Lionel. My, er friend."

"Of course." Janet offers her hand for Fusco to shake. "I've been told all about you. It's so nice for a bride to be to have someone to provide a critical eye when it comes to making the right choice for her perfect day isn't it?"

"Yeah." Fusco looks a little flustered, and when Joss catches his eyes wandering down to the attractive woman's low cut shirt, she gives him a surreptitious kick to the ankle. Obviously recovering himself somewhat he gives a lopsided grin. "Can't let Jossy choose a dress on her own, she'd end up walking down the isle in jeans and a t-shirt."

Carter does her best not to glare at him, but Ms Kline seems enchanted. "Oh I don't think we'll let that happen." With a smile she beckons them to follow her down the small corridor at the side of the office and into an airy white carpeted room. Along one side of the wall a rack of several dozen wedding dresses encased in plastic sleeves hang in various shades of white and cream, along with a rainbow coloured array of bridesmaid dresses. Two big changing rooms with slatted wooden doors take up the far wall and the wall to her left is hung with three big mirrors. Even though the lighting is slightly subdued so as to flatter the potential bride, Carter has to bite her cheek so as not to laugh when she catches the reflection from the corner of her eye. The three of them look utterly ridiculous together.

"So..." Janet claps her hands gleefully. "Did you have a particular style in mind?" Before waiting for Joss to answer she turns and flicks her way through the dresses on the rail. "You have such lovely skin dear that I'm thinking something in an oyster colour would flatter you; white might be a little harsh. And.." She looks back, giving Joss a critical once-over "I'm thinking something with a fuller skirt and a nipped in waist so as not to make you seem too top heavy. You've got great boobs so might as well show them off am I right? "

Fusco's eyes drift down to Joss's chest and she gives him a smile that promises great pain if he does it again. "Yeah," he says," clearing his throat. "but something classy. Joss.. Jossy is classy."

Taking note of the implied apology Carter decides to forgive him for the timebeing.

"Indeed." The blonde smiles happily. "When I'm done with her your friend will make Kate Middleton look like one of those terrible Kardashians in comparison." Pulling out a frothy concoction of satin and tulle she holds it up for Carter's approval. "Something like this I was thinking."

"Perhaps something with a little more structure to the bodice?" Fusco at least seems to be getting into the spirit of things. "Like the one Amanda Seyfried wore at the end of "Mama Mia"?"

Joss manages a weak smile. _Why the hell hadn't John done something normal and humane like ask her to hold off a load of men with automatic weapons for him? This promised to be a very long, long morning._

* * *

"No." Harold's voice is firm. "I'm not letting you watch the footage of the cameras you planted in Orchadia's dressing room. I'll check on Detectives Carter and Fusco from time to time in a strictly professional capacity, but I'm not letting you leer at the poor woman while she tries on wedding gowns. It's unethical and unsavoury. Frankly you should be ashamed of yourself."

John sighs heavily and gives Harold a baleful look." I just want to keep an eye on her. And anyway, I lost all sense of shame a long time ago."

"That doesn't surprise me at all and it's the bits of her that you are intent on studying that has me worried. Any luck with Ms Kline's cell phone?" Finch retorts, scanning through Orchadia's credit history. "Has she turned it on?"

"Yes." Slumping down into the threadbare armchair that he has decided is "his", John frowns at his own phone. "Unfortunately she's left it in a drawer or a locker or something so it's not much use listening in. There were a couple of messages from a guy called Ray calling on behalf of "Elegance Cadillacs though. "Since Orchadia promises to cover everything involved in a wedding it makes sense that they'd contract a car hire service. The messages were just confirming pick up times but it might be worth looking into."

"Indeed." Finch has the information on the company up almost before his partner has finished speaking, recoiling slightly as their home page pops up on screen. "If nothing else they are guilty of abusing the English language," he says with disdain. "How one can misspell "luxury" baffles me."

"Irritating as that might be, I don't think that it's going to get Janet Kline killed in the crossfire if a grammar Nazi attacks them in righteous rage," John replies mildly. "Does anything look suspicious?"

"Perhaps.." Finch clicks up several tabs and cross references the information. "They're a small company – only ten cars in their fleet, but their income seems to be far higher than I would expect." Narrowing his eyes, his fingers dance across the keyboard. "Along with servicing Orchadia's customers they are receiving regular payments from another company that goes by the name of "Wedded Bliss." To the tune of almost ten thousand dollars a week."

John perks up a little at that information. "And what do we know about them?"

"That's the thing." Harold stretches his aching back. "They don't exist. Oh they have a website and the property they are using as their address is registered to them but it's a sham. A fairly good one, to give credit where it's due, but the owner of the company doesn't exist; there are no vehicles registered to them, and from what I can tell their headquarters is an empty building. No utility bills have been paid from there in four years."

"So where's the money coming from?"

"That, Mr Reese is what I intend to find out."

**A/N thanks very much to my kind reviewers and readers – I've been amazed at the response to this (pretty silly) story. I'm definitely having a lot of fun writing this, so hope that you enjoy the chapter :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Reese adjusts his black bow tie and re-arranges the lapels of his beautifully cut tuxedo jacket. Smoothing his hair in the mirror, he turns to Finch who rolls his eyes at his preening. "How do I look?"

"Smug," the older man says shortly."And expensive, as well you should. Do try not to put any bullet holes in the suit; I'm not sure that my tailor would be willing to work with you again."

"I was perfectly polite," John protests not entirely convincingly, picking up his Glock and tucking it into the holster that the sleek material conceals. "I merely found it a little disconcerting when he put strange implements around my groin area. Usually the hands I welcome patting that part of my anatomy are rather more feminine."

"It was a tape measure, not an "implement", and I imagine he'll not make the same mistake of making a pass at you again," Harold grumbles. "Anton's the only tailor in this state that uses genuine English Tweed and not a cheap facsimile. He's also discreet so I would prefer to keep him on the pay roll as it were."

Shrugging, John puts a couple of stun grenades in his overcoat pockets. "Can't you just buy his shop? Besides," he gives his employer a critical look. "You never go anywhere where anyone would know the difference between fake or phony tweed. Who cares?"

"I care," Finch says stiffly. "And coming from someone who wore sweat-pants when I first met him," Harold's mouth curls into a little moue of disdain, "forgive me if I you aren't my first choice when it comes to opinions of a sartorial nature."

"And speaking of sartorial matters," John says nodding towards the computer, his eyes gleaming. "How are Carter and Fusco?"

The older man's tone is bored when he answers. "Detective Fusco seems to be rather more enthusiastic than I had anticipated, while I would not be surprised if Detective Carter has spent the last hour planning your imminent demise." Looking at the computer his lips twitch in a suppressed smile. "I must say that the peach silk clung to her in a way that was perhaps a little overly sexual for a church wedding and the corseted ivory was a little low cut, but she certainly did such overpriced garments justice."

John tries not to think about the images Finch has put in his head and suppresses a growl. "You are a bad man Harold."

"Indeed," the other man agrees cheerfully. "Good luck Mr Reese."

John doesn't answer as he throws the heavy wool overcoat over his shoulder, grabs the car keys on the table and bounds down the stairs of the library. The black Mercedes Benz that is nice but not so over the top as to be memorable's lights flash when he presses the button on the keyring and he slides behind the wheel, guiding it out of the underground garage and into the street. Luck isn't on his side when it comes to traffic however. Two cars had run into each other essentially blocking the road a half mile ahead and the cars had slowed to pretty much a crawl. It's frustrating, but there's nothing much he can do about it, and at least Carter and Fusco didn't seem to be in any imminent danger. Sweating in the mid morning sun, he taps the steering wheel and thinks about his partners in crime. Fusco of course had no choice in doing what he asked. Reese said "jump", Fusco said "how high". There was a time that John acknowledges with the self awareness of a trained soldier that he might have sacrificed the Detective for the cause without really feeling much. It's an uncomfortable thought now. They are too different to be friends but the mutual respect between them although new and tentative wasn't unwelcome. Although of course yanking Lionel's chain every now and then was a necessity; couldn't have him getting cocky after all.

And then there was Joss... Brave, stubborn Joss with her flawless skin, infuriating moral compass and dark eyes that dared him to challenge him. What had started as a game between them, albeit one that would have had him imprisoned if she had won and had damned near gotten him killed, had shifted, and it wasn't just because she knew and accepted what he did and why any more. Sure he still smirked and quipped and played devil-may-care towards her, and she retorted with tart remarks and a long suffering attitude, but beneath the surface the undertow was getting stronger. If they both gave in what would it do to the two of them?

The blare of a car horn behind him pulls Reese out of his reverie and he catches up to the car that had started moving infront of him, mentally kicking himself. It was definitely time to get his head back in the game.

* * *

"Do you have a bathroom that I could use?" Joss isn't actually sure if she has a bladder anymore – most of her internal organs have been squashed and re-arranged by various corseting, lacings and dresses that, if they had ever been designed for the female form had been done so by someone who had never actually met a real life woman – but it's a decent excuse for a reprieve. Wriggling out of a satin concoction that costs more than her first car, she manages to pull on her civilian clothes in the dressing room and escape down the hallway when Janet Kline tells her where to go.

The bathroom is small but tasteful and so bright white it makes her eyes hurt. After running the cold tap and cooling her wrists and neck, she braces her hands on the sink and peers at her reflection in the mirror.

_She looks mostly the same, _she thinks. _At once older and younger than she pictures herself in her head_. Her hair is messy from having been put up and down by Janet Kline and she's still flushed from giggling at Fusco's attempt at modelling a tartan Vivienne Westwood creation that made him look like a set of bagpipes had come to life and tried to swallow him whole._ It was only fair though,_ she justifies the suggestion (alright downright lie) that she'd given to Ms Kline about Lionel having a thing about the designer. If she had to suffer then so should he. She'd even been good and not taken a photo even though it would be platinum bribery material the next time she needed him to cover for her. All things considered things could have been a lot worse. Janet Kline was kind and enthusiastic, Lionel was, well, she'd never say it out loud but really rather endearingly romantic when you took him out of the precinct_, and what the hell are you doing, woman? _She wonders. They were trying to save a woman's life not playing a game.

Things would be a lot easier if John would give her something to do rather than keeping her as a place-holder while he did the real work. Since she had nothing to do but play along unless someone came into Orchadia guns blazing, and _that_ didn't seem likely at the moment, what could she do but play dress up Barbie? The thought is unsettling. She wouldn't have gone along with it if anyone else had asked her to do so, and she's a little afraid as to how John had hardly had to convince her to go along with the plan. He's so smug and confident that half the time she wants to slap him, but when she needs him, really needs him he's always there. Joss tells herself it's because of guilt at almost getting him killed by Snow that she does what he says without really thinking about it, but she doesn't look in the mirror when she thinks it.

* * *

It's not that difficult for John to slip into the crowd of people outside the small but pretty church. Harold had told him the names of the bride and groom that Orchadia had organised the wedding for, and the bride merely looks a little confused when he congratulates her on a beautiful wedding before making his way towards the limos waiting outside. Since the clients had insisted on black-tie for the men, the driver who is at the wheel of the car he slides into looks confused rather than suspicious.

"This one's for the in-laws," the stocky dark haired man says. "The white cars at the back are for the guests. If you..."

John takes his gun out of its holster and flicks the safety catch off, making sure that the driver can see the Glock pointed at him in the rear view mirror. The man's eyes widen and he glances frantically towards the wedding party so near and yet out of sight.

"I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to hurt them," John says calmly, I just need you to answer a few questions and it's always best to do that in private don't you think?"  
"Yeah... I guess..." The young man hasn't taken his eyes of the gun and inwardly Reese sighs. He recognises the face from Harold pulling up pictures of the Elegance Cadillacs' employees on his computer. Joey Ryder, brother to another of their staff, high school drop-out with a record of petty theft and minor drug offences. The kid looked so freaked that he was liable to drive the cadillac straight into the nearest telegraph pole if he turned the key in the ignition, but they couldn't stay here while he questioned him.

"You're Joey aren't you?" He keeps his voice low and calm. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to talk."

The younger man gives a slightly hysterical giggle. "Yeah Ok. Did you say that to Danny too? 'cause we're doing our best you know. After Big Red got taken out we've got to make new contacts right? You can't just walk up with a dozen kilos of coke and expect a hug. Ray told her that, she didn't have to kill Danny. It takes time. C'mon man please. I got a girlfriend and a kid. We just need a bit more time."

Reese feels his heart start to pound but he keeps his voice steady. "I'm not going to do anything to you so long as you do exactly as I say. You're going to drive back to base and you are going to tell me everything along the way. If you're lucky I might be able to get you out of this mess."

Joey doesn't look at all convinced, and it's more by luck than good driving that he pulls out of the line of cars without hitting any of them, but at least he's keeping his eyes on the road, and for that Reese is grateful.

"So Joey," John keeps his voice friendly although there's about a dozen warning sirens going off in his brain. "Let's talk about "she" shall we? The one who killed Danny."

Joey's eyes widen, and he swerves a little on the road. Deciding that he would be of absolutely no use to anyone if the car ends up wrapped around a tree, John shoves his gun into the young man's ribs and barks an order for him to stop. It's a quiet street without many people around, and when the cadillac pulls to a halt it hopefully would just look as though it was waiting for someone.

"I asked you a question, Joey," Reese says mildly, tapping the Glock against his ribs. "Who's the woman you're talking about?"

"Janet Kline." The words come out half strangled through his throat. "She brings in coke with her wedding dresses and we distribute it. Well we did. Our buyer got taken out and now we're trying to re-negotiate, but it's not easy, even with the cover and the fake company. She's sitting on a load of product that she doesn't want to get caught with and we're running out of options."

John ran the scenario through his mind. After all the things he had seen and done it shouldn't have been surprising, but he was a little embarrassed that he had misjudged the wedding planner so easily. "And Danny?"

"Danny tried to go straight." Joey looked worryingly near tears. "She killed him. Shot him in the head and dumped his body in the Hudson river. She's all sweet on the outside, but …. She's got enforcers who'll come after us and our families if we don't toe the line. That's why Ray set up the hit."

"A hit on Janet Kline?" Reese swallows hard. "When?"

"Twelve thirty." Joey rubs his sleeve over his runny nose. "What time is it?"

The second hand of John's Rolex sweeps around the clockface as he watches. Twelve twenty-eight. There's no way he's going to get there in time. Frantically he reaches for his phone and starts dialling.

**A/N: Thanks everyone who has been reading and reviewing – much appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

It takes both Janet Kline and Lionel to pull the laces tight enough in the latest dress that Joss has to try on, and she's fairly sure that one more yank and her ribs might crack. Glancing in the mirror Carter might have laughed had her rib cage been able to expand that far. Her breasts are hoisted up unnaturally high, her waist pinched in with what feels like steel bands and from the waist down at least seven layers of fluffy white tulle foam down over her legs. If she was actually planning to get married in the dress she'd either die of asphyxiation or trip on the skirts and break her neck before getting half way down the isle._ Or her boobs would pop out half way through the vows..._ She tries not to grin at that idea, or the fact that Fusco is trying so hard not to look at her front and further piss her off that he keeps walking into the stool that Janet is standing on.

"You look lovely dear." Ms. Kline beams at her proudly. "Your fiancee won't be able to take his eyes off you."

_With this much cleavage exposed, he probably wouldn't, _Joss thinks. The idea is far more appealing than it should be. Mentally dragging herself back to earth she's saved from having to think up a diplomatic reply by someone ringing the front door bell.

"Please excuse me," Janet gives a show of rolling her eyes. "Probably a delivery, I won't keep you waiting long." Hurrying out of the door, she carefully closes it behind her.

Fusco gives a rueful smile and Joss shakes her head in response.

"Jesus, Lionel help me out here? I can't breathe in this thing."

The detective moves around to the back of her and tugs a little at the laces. From watching his reflection in the mirror Carter can tell that he's utterly baffled with the complexities of the dress.

"You just have to undo the bow at the bottom of the corset, it can't be that hard," she hisses.

"It's not a bow," Fusco retorts indignantly. "It's a knot thing, and there are hooks... I..." The beep of Joss's cell phone interrupts him.

"That had better be John cutting us loose," she mutters, not so much walking as waddling towards the bag she had placed in the changing cubicle. Flicking open the phone she sees the unrecognised number on the display and hopes that she sounds as pissed as she feels when she answers. "What?"

For once Reese gets straight to the point. "Janet Kline's a drug dealer. There's a hit man coming for her right now. All of you have to get out of there."

It takes Joss a second to process the information and maybe another for the adrenaline to kick in. "Fusco! You armed?"

Her partner looks a little confused but nods, picking up his discarded coat from a chair and pulling his badge and gun out from the pocket. "What's going on?"

"Janet's a drug dealer and someone's coming to kill her, like now." Even to her own ears it sounds ridiculous, but while John might have his faults, Carter knows that his intel is good and if he says run then she runs.

"Seriously?" Lionel looks disbelieving for a moment, but his mind obviously runs on the same wavelength as hers. "I'll get Janet, there's a fire door out the back. Probably best not to go out the front."

"Right." Carter watches him hurry out the door before turning her attention back to the phone in her hand. "What the hell John? What are we up against?" As she talks she rummages in her bag with her free hand and finds her Sig, thumbing off the safety. The boom of two gunshots from the front of the building drowns out his reply and has her ducking down onto the plush carpet. "Shit," Carter whispers. There's the sound of male voices yelling from what she thinks is the front office but it's impossible to make out what they are saying. She's fairly sure that neither of the voices are Fusco's though, and that at first makes her freeze before anger replaces any panic. _If the sons of bitches had taken out her partner then they were going to pay._ Taking a deep breath, Joss tries to clear her head. The tinny sound of Reese calling her name is echoing from the phone in her hand, lifting it she keeps an eye on the door and tries to speak quietly. "I'm here. So are they."

There's a momentary pause, and what might have been a sigh before John speaks, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Where in the building are you all, and where are they?"

Joss tries to think. "I'm in the dressing room, opposite the bathroom. Fusco and Janet Kline went out to the front office. There were shots fired, I don't know how many perps there are – at least two."

"Stay where you are," his voice brooks no argument but Carter immediately bristles at the order. "I'm almost there. Stay out of the line of fire." The line goes dead and she growls at it before calling in to the precinct to request back-up. Her people are good, but they need help now. _Stay where you are? Yeah, right._ She's a cop not a civilian. Her partner could be bleeding out a few yards away, so could Janet Kline. No way in hell is she going to sit by and wait for Mr Tall Dark and Infuriating to come and rescue her. The sound of voices is coming nearer and she weighs up her options. She can't move with her usual speed while yanked into the dress from hell, and the only way out of the room is by opening the door into the corridor that provides absolutely no cover. Staying here and randomly shooting anyone who comes into the room isn't a very good idea either - not without knowing how many of them are out there first. As the voices come closer, inspiration strikes. Grabbing the rail of wedding dresses, she rocks it backwards and forwards experimentally. The wheels sink into the carpet but move well; crouching behind it, when the door to the dressing room opens and Joss catches a glimpse of a slim black-clad man she shoves it forward, pinning him to the opposite wall. His head hits the wall with an audible *thunk*, his eyes closing as he slumps down, half propped up against the metal rail. The gun in his hand drops to the floor and she grabs it quickly. It's cool, obviously not recently fired, and without anywhere safe to leave it she lifts her skirt, tucking it into the garter belt she'd been forced into trying on that encircles her thigh.

There isn't any time to do any recon before a bullet takes out a chunk of plaster beside her cheek, and Joss dodges back into the dressing room. She might be able to make it to the end of the corridor and the fire door but she can't say for certain that it's unlocked. Get trapped down there and she'd be a sitting duck. Another couple of rounds slam into the wall nearby, dropping to her knees she peers around the corner quickly. A man in a black ski mask and a dark blue jogging suit jumps back behind the front desk when she lets off a couple of rounds, but the angle is difficult and she's pretty sure that she hadn't hit him. The gunman on the other hand has the advantage. His next two shots are so close that one slices through the tulle of her skirt and it's only by flinching back by reflex that the other buries itself into the chair she's crouched near and not in her head.

_Oh shit, the mirrors..._ The door to the dressing room is wedged open by the garment rail and the room itself is covered in mirrors. Anyone who could see even the slightest chink into the room would be able to see her reflection – there was nowhere to hide. She dares not shoot at the mirrors to even up the playing field. They're heavy duty and steel backed – a ricochet would be as likely to take her out as a bullet from the gunman. Glancing sideways, Joss sees the flimsy looking wooden changing cubicles. It's not ideal but it's the best cover she has. When another volley of gunshots tear up the wall bare inches from her she uses her last two bullets to hold the attacker off, discards the empty Sig and makes a run for it. The slatted wooden door is pathetic defence against the bullets that just seem to keep on coming, and wedged underneath the seat in the tiny cubicle Joss frantically tries to get to the gun that she had taken from the other attacker.

The sudden explosion is so loud that she's fairly sure that a bomb's gone off and she's never going to see her son again.

* * *

Joey Ryder hadn't taken much persuading to get out of the Cadillac and, John hopes, out of his current line of employment with a little help. The car is very expensive, very beautiful and handles like absolute crap when driven at speed. Wrenching the steering wheel sideways and trying not to put too much pressure on the accelerator, Reese tries to listen to Finch and keep the car on the road.

"According to the cameras in Orchadia there are two targets." Finch's voice is clipped and seemingly emotionless, but John has known him long enough now to read his verbal short hand for get-there-now. "One seems to have been rendered unconscious by Detective Carter, the other is engaging in combat with her."

"Engaging.." John swings the unwieldy vehicle around a corner and barely misses hitting a fire hydrant. "Where are Fusco and Kline?"

"Down." Harold hesitates for a moment. "There were shots fired, they're both unmoving behind the front desk. Detective Carter is trapped in a room down the hall. I suggest you hurry."

Reese doesn't answer, merely puts his foot down on the accelerator as soon as he turns in to Orchadia's parking lot and drives straight through the plate glass windows.

For all its faults the Cadillac's brakes are worth the price of the car alone. It slams to a halt an inch before hitting the far wall, and John is out the door before a bullet shatters the passenger window. Rolling, he draws his Glock and fires twice. The first shot goes wide, but the second hits its target. John knows far too well what the sound of a bullet tearing through flesh sounds like and it's not a surprise to see his attacker slumped against the wall when he gets up cautiously and circumvents the desk he'd taken cover behind. _Heart shot_. _He'd always been good at them_. Kicking the gun that the assassin had dropped out of the way Reese keeps his emotions in check. Behind the front desk of Orchadia the blue eyes of its owner stare sightlessly at the ceiling, a neat hole in her forehead perhaps the only tidy thing to come out of the whole sorry mess. The man beside her lying on his stomach is instantly recognisable. Dropping to his knees Reese checks his pulse and finds it steady. A bullet had obviously creased his skull and was oozing blood, but his skull seemed intact. Seeing Lionel stir and wriggle onto his back without showing any evidence of major injury gives John the excuse he needs to leave him and race towards the dressing room, pushing the rail of dresses blocking the hallway aside.

"I swear to God one of these days I'm gonna shoot you." Joss glares at him, a gun in one hand, the other trying to extricate the flouncy skirt of the dress she's wearing from the hinges of the little wooden dressing room she's half laying in. Her head is resting on the carpet, her skirt pulled up to reveal a pretty blue garter and a curvacious expanse of thigh.

"Do you want a hand?" John can't help it. She looks ridiculous and beautiful and the relief that she's alright makes him dizzy.

"Fusco?" Carter's voice is urgent and he reminds himself of the job that he is supposed to be doing. "Out the front. You're going to need to call a bus but it doesn't look too bad."

"Yeah, well." Joss manages to free herself, get to her feet, yank up the bodice of her dress and glare at him all in a smooth five seconds. "Forgive me if I don't exactly trust you at the moment." Storming past him she has to struggle to get through the doorway that is still partially blocked by the rail and several thousands of dollars of couture. At her glare, John wisely keeps his mouth shut and instead of offering her any help he follows her back towards the front of the shop. Distracted as he is, it's only muscle memory and reflexes that prevent the seemingly unconscious man in the hallway from blowing his brains out. At the faint clang of metal upon metal as the black-clad man raises his gun Reese instinctively ducks and pivots, the bullet that should have gone through his brain instead yanking his shoulder backwards. Without thinking he grabs the man who is still pinned beneath the dress rail and twists his wrist until he drops the gun. A couple well placed (and cathartic) punches and what had been a threat is now unconscious dead weight. Grabbing a pink silk sash from one of the garments, John ties his hands quickly and efficiently. It would be enough to restrain him until Carter or Fusco could break out the handcuffs. His shoulder hurts like a son of a bitch, but quickly assessing the wound, Reese is relieved to see that while the bullet might have destroyed his suit it had only forged a furrow out of his skin and the muscle damage would be minimal. There isn't any time to do anything about it, so he jogs quickly down the corridor to where Joss is carefully helping Lionel sit up.

"You know I hate you right?" Fusco's words are a little slurred, but the fact that he's awake and pissed off are all good signs. John gives a decent attempt at his usual smirk.

"Trust me Lionel, you and Carter are going to be fine. From what Joey Ryder says Janet Kline has at least a dozen kilos of coke on the property." He looks at Carter who although obviously pissed off is at least taking in the information. "She also killed one of the employees of Elegance Cadillacs. I'll get him to turn himself in, persuade him to tell the DA that he gave you information that you followed up on in return for a deal."

"And this Joey Ryder is where exactly?" Carter sorts through the information as best she can.

"I'll call you later and tell you where to pick him up." Giving Lionel his Glock after wiping it clean, John looks warily out the window when the sound of approaching sirens starts to become louder. "He," Reese nods towards the dead man by the crashed Cadillac "ambushed you both and killed Janet kline. Fusco took him out with Ms. Kline's gun that she kept under the desk. You knocked out the other guy when he tried to attack you while you were undercover trying to gain intel."

"You think of everything don't you?" Joss says not bothering to hide her irritation. "Get out of here before the cops arrive or I arrest your sorry ass myself."

"I'm sorry." The words are genuine and for a moment he thinks that Carter's expression softens a little. "It shouldn't have turned out like this, we wouldn't have put you in danger deliberately. I'll make it up to you both."

"Good luck trying." Reese isn't sure whether Joss is angry or disappointed but he doesn't have time to find out. Jogging out of Orchadia he vaults the fence at the back of the shop just as the NYPD arrive.

**A/N: One more chapter to go :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

**Strong "T" rating for sexual situations at the end of the chapter.**

Carter's head hurts, but probably not as much as Fusco's she thinks, finishing off the last of her paperwork. Her partner still has steri strips covering the gash where the bullet had creased him, but he'd insisted on coming down to the precinct as soon as he was discharged from hospital; something that she is grateful for. The mess at the Orchadia bridal boutique was a total cluster fuck even with Reese's cover story explaining most of the reasons why they were there and the three dead bodies in the morgue. Joss grimaces at the thought. A couple of inches to the left from the bullet that had grazed hs skull and Lionel might have ended up in a drawer next to them. The tightness in her chest isn't entirely due to the idea that she'd have to break in a new partner if anything happened to him. Watching him munch on the bagel that she had brought him that morning with the not entirely accurate excuse that it was "buy one, get one free", she shakes her head at him in mock reproof when he drops a glob of cream cheese on his shirt before gathering her paperwork and taking it down the corridor to be filed.

Since John had actually come through with delivering Joey Ryder who was quite happy to find her and spill his guts about Janet Kline's drug couriering and testify to her murdering his friend, what should have ended in career suicide didn't even end up with a slap on the wrist. The DA had cut a deal with the kid and the stash of cocaine found under the floorboards of Orchadia's kitchen took any heat off of her and Fusco. Results spoke for themselves no matter how unorthodox the means of getting the information might have been, and all in all the bust was considered a win. The papers were having a field day with "The Blonde Bridal Drug Baroness."

After dropping off her files, Joss pauses at the water cooler and swallows down the cold liquid quickly before tossing the cup in the garbage. John used her, and that's not something that sits comfortably with her. He had his reasons, and they were good ones, but the knowledge that he had kept her so far out of the loop that she hadn't even had a chance to realise the danger she and Fusco were in before they were being shot at rankles. If John had been honest with her she might have been able to bring Janet Kline in wearing handcuffs and not a body bag. Feeling irritated and confused and telling herself that it has nothing to do with the fact that Reese hasn't contacted her in the past three days she heads to the kitchen.

The coffee is barely luke-warm in the pot on the sideboard but Joss pours Lionel a cup anyway, dumping three spoons of sugar into the dark sludge. When she returns back to her desk she's a little surprised at the smile on his face as he hurriedly shoves something back into the padded envelope in his hand.

"What's that?" She waves the cup of terrible coffee at him in an attempt at enticement and raises an eyebrow. "New Star Wars doll?"

Fusco grabs the cup and takes a swallow before grimacing and pushing it away. "I collect Star Trek collectable figures for your information, but no. Seriously, you call that coffee?"

"One of the rookies does." Joss watches as Lionel puts the envelope in his desk drawer and locks it. "What is that? It'd better not be porn."

Her partner gives her an amused grin. "Would that be so bad? Maybe you should broaden your horizons."

"Broaden my horizons?"Carter says sulkily, "I've already read "Fifty Shades Of Grey"."

"Really?"

Joss rolls her eyes and grabs her coat. "I'm done here. See you Monday, and you're welcome for the coffee."

"Whatever this stuff is it isn't coffee." Fusco's words echo behind her but she ignores them. Barring a catastrophe she's not due back into work for two days, and since Taylor is probably developing carpal -tunnel syndrome with his cousins playing video games at their house, the idea of going home and crawling into bed for the next forty eight hours sounds like heaven. She calls her son on her cell but he doesn't have much time to talk. Something about being on level five. Joss tells him she loves him and he says "see-ya" which is short-hand for "I love you too but there's no way in hell I'm going to say it infront of my friends."

Wearily trudging up the steps to her apartment, because yes, today of all days the elevator was out of order, Joss looks at her key in bewilderment when she opens the door to her home, checking that she's got the right door. The smell hits her first. She's always liked flowers but never had anywhere to grow them. Her grandmother had a garden in Iowa where she used to play as a girl and so some of the scents are familiar though. Honeysuckle. Hyacinths. Roses. The heavy fragrance of Lily Of the Valley. One hand curls around the gun she keeps in her purse, but it's giddy wonder and not fear that she feels when she closes the door behind her. The floor, the dinner table are overflowing with blooms. She can't quite see into the kitchen but Carter's pretty sure that there's a three foot high orchid in the sink from the little she can see through the flowers that have turned her home into a jungle.

"Going for subtle, huh?" The attempt at being snarky doesn't sound very convincing and the man waving a white rose at her shrugs.

"These were the flowers that you wanted. I was right there when you picked them out of the catalogue." John looks unrepentant, utterly at ease and so ridiculously sexy covered in white petals and sprawled on the couch that Joss can't help but laugh.

"Yeah, but.."Flicking her fingers through a spray of gypsofilia tucked into an over the top bouquet on her dining table, Joss surveys her apartment. "That was in pretend getting married world, and you know that I only chose them to piss you off. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this?"

"Forgive me?" He raises an eyebrow and Joss crosses her arms.

"You nearly got Lionel and I killed. You know that right?"

The light seems to go out in John's eyes. Settling herself down on the couch next to him, Joss plucks the rose from his fingers. The petals are beautiful, sleek and elegant. A thorn pricks the pad of her thumb and Joss rubs the blood away, watching as Reese watches her.

"I get flowers, what did you give Lionel? Please tell me it was the wedding cake."

"Sorry." John takes her hand and looks at the tiny wound. "I didn't think either of you would appreciate it, besides the bakery in question looks like going under along with Janet Kline's business." He kisses her thumb and Joss finds herself going very still. He lets her hand go, but she licks her lips involuntarily, feeling a rush of heat go through her. She's never thought her apartment small before, even with all the clutter that comes with living with a teenaged boy, but suddenly the walls seem to be a little too close and the air a little too thick.

"You gave him something." She kicks her shoes off and wriggles her toes in the carpet. "That envelope he got today was from you." It's a guess, but when John gives her an enigmatic smile Joss nods towards the bag she had dumped on the small area of floor that wasn't covered in flowers. "I can handcuff you, take you down the precinct and make you tell me you know."

"What is it with you and handcuffs?" John's grey eyes crinkle at the corners and she kicks him on the shin lightly.

"Come on, tell me." She keeps her attention on the rose in her hand. The silky caress of the petals on her palm. _He loves me, he loves me not._

"Backstage passes to the Foo Fighters," Reese says eventually. "His son likes them."

"Huh." Carter thinks about that for a moment. "Good call. He gets points when it comes to his son, you get points with Lionel. Win, win."

"That's what I'm hoping."

"And I get to come home to a flower shop." She tries not to smile. "Is it even worth changing my locks so you can't barge your way in?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" He leans forward so close that Joss can smell the faint trace of his cologne and feel the heat of his skin. _This is the part where you get up, re-establish boundaries and act like a damn good officer of the law, _she tells herself. She'd never been particularly good at following rules though, and so when his lips dip down and nuzzle hers she kisses him back, letting him pull her onto his lap when they have to break contact in order to breathe. Dropping her head down onto his shoulder she sighs when John runs his hand down her spine. His chest is hard and warm against her breasts, his erection solid in the junction between her thighs. When she rocks against him he groans and she feels the echo of it through her own body, and when he asks her if she's sure she practically drags him to the bedroom.

Joss doesn't turn the light on. There's enough light from the hallway to see what she's doing and even if she were waxed, made up and wearing her best lingerie she'd feel a little self conscious getting naked infront of him. Having come straight from work without even having time to change her clothes or shower she hesitates for a moment before John picks her up and places her carefully on the bed. He strips her clothes off slowly, folding first her shirt, then her pants before putting them on the chair beside her wardrobe. Batting her hands away he takes a very long time removing first her bra and then her panties. His mouth is soft, his big hands firm and warm as he spreads her legs. The crisp rasp of his starched cotton shirt against her inner thighs and the soft "Come for me sweetheart" against her core is all it takes for her let go completely.

Limbs heavy from the afterglow, Joss tugs at Reese's shirt sleeve.

"Lose all of..." She gives a half hearted wave at him. "Get your clothes off."

"Whatever the lady wants." His grey eyes are impossible to read in the darkness. When he climbs up on to the bed finally, blessedly naked, Carter runs her hand through his hair, down his neck and over his shoulder. He fits her like he's made for her and she whispers his name as she comes once again.

Afterwards, sweaty, blissfully lazy and more than a little sleepy, Joss touches the gauze taped to his shoulder. "What happened here?"

"Bullet from one of Janet Kline's friends." John shifts to move out of her, but Carter keeps her leg hooked over his hip and snuggles against his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

"Where do you think you're going?" She mumbles. The answering chuckle is something that she feels rather than hears.

"Nowhere apparently."

"You deserved to get shot," Joss says eventually. "I had to wear corsets for you and see Fusco in skinny jeans. That's real pain – you got off easy."

"You're all heart, you know Carter." He tries to sound annoyed, but can't help but laugh. "You want to know what pain is, it's having Finch watch you modelling dresses and not letting me see the footage."

"Harold watched me undressing?" Carter wrinkles her nose and snuggles closer to him, sliding a hand down his rib-cage. "I never saw him as the kinky type."

"He's not. He was a perfect gentleman."

"And you're not." Joss tries not to giggle like a teenager when he pushes her over onto her back. Reese is already hardening again within her and she looks up at his grey eyes.

"I'd have recorded every moment and put it on a permanent loop on my phone. "

"Pervert."

"Goddess." He kisses her then and it's a long time before Carter has a coherent thought after that. Waking up with the dawn light spilling through the blinds and John heavy and warm against her back, she smiles. Ok she won't be walking down the aisle for real with this dangerous, sexy, adorable guy, but that's alright. He's got her heart, and she's pretty sure that she has his. Who needs normal anyway?

**A/N: Complete! There's an "M" rated version of this chapter that can be found through a link on my profile page (it's not that much different though). Thanks very much to everyone who has been reading this – it really was a lot of fun to write and you helped make it that way!**


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